This is kind of a weird tip but keep a toothbrush in the shower.
I say this cause I know dental hygiene is one of those super important things that gets so often skipped/forgotten/whatever by mental health.
but like.
once i’m IN the shower, I look for any excuse to stay there. So I have a toothbrush. I have my water pick. If I were smart, I’d put a little bottle of mouth wash in there.
this post is about brushing your teeth but its also about knowing yourself. If you think you’re most likely to brush your teeth while standing at the coffee maker every morning? Put a toothbrush by the kitchen sink.
If doing the laundry has too many start up steps, put your dirty clothes right into the washer when you take them off. Use it like a hamper.
Eat a gogurt for breakfast literally every day if you find yourself skipping it because figuring out what to eat is too much brain.
Just like, don’t be afraid to adapt things to your reality. You don’t have to do things “right” for them to be worth doing. A quick swish of mouthwash when you go in to pee is better than doing nothing at all.
and here is a POV video from one of the performers on stage during the major opening scene evolution: https://youtu.be/1ZlZZf8MKpM
If you start the broadcast around 19:21 in one window, and the POV around 1:14 in another, you can use the drum beat you hear at that point of the show to sync them very closely and get both a wide-shot of the scene as well as the SM instructions as they perform their choreography.
Todd the demon is a he, now, if only because Granny Ethel
insists upon using copious ‘Dear boy, keep
trying’and ‘Atta boy!’ critiques to varying degrees depending on how well his
needlework, crochet, and knitting attempts progress.
Gender isn’t a concept
the demon concerned himself with before. If Todd had been, say, a girl named Tonya,
he supposes he’d be a she instead. If
Todd had been gender-neutral and properly communicated with his grandmother, he
supposes she would call him they or child, appropriately. Granny Ethel isn’t
one to discriminate. Even when she properly wears her glasses and sees his
obviously un-Todd-like appearance, only shaking her head and smiling with a
good-natured “kids these days” on her lips. But he wouldn’t mind if Granny
Ethel called him boy, girl, thing, or abomination, so long as she stayed happy.
Granny Ethel is a
patient woman. Todd simply can’t understand why or how she’d become the black
sheep of her family, especially after a full week of living with her
hospitality. Through the constant baked goods and the modest but satisfying
three-meals-a-day; the careful (oh-so-careful) dusting of trinkets and
bookshelves with tiny cloths and feather dusters not fit for large claws, which
he insists upon doing while she looks
on in worry before brewing more coffee; the midday television re-run breaks
spent sealing cash donations into envelopes and discussing human rights issues
instead of watching old shows, he simply can’t think of her as anything but a
paragon of her kind.
It’s a problem with them, he concludes. Not her.
It isn’t a decision he
makes lightly.
Spending such a brief
time with her, he’s already learned so much more about humans than he ever
would have cared to know, beyond perceiving them as vessels or a means to an
end. There is much suffering in the world—sometimes even more than that in Hell—but
there is also kindness.
He’s known that, but he
witnesses it first hand during their first trip outside of Granny Ethel’s home.
“Come, now, Todd, we
have much shopping to do. I’m afraid my pantry isn’t stocked appropriately for
the upcoming food donation drive and I can’t just skip it this month.”
Todd remembers
addressing an envelope to the local food bank—most people would stop there,
figuring their good deed was done.
“I also have to stock
up on this week’s groceries. Feel free to buy whatever you want, dear. I can
cook anything, you know! At least, I try. I suppose you’d like some snacks,
too. But I am so glad you’re here;
think of all the bags we can carry between the two of us!”
There is no car in Granny
Ethel’s driveway, or a garage to store it. He wonders how they’re going to make
it to the grocery store as he waits for her to lock the door behind them, as she
hobbles down the two small concrete steps with her cane in hand.
It isn’t until she’s
halfway down the sidewalk that he realizes they’re walking. In public.
An old crone in black
and a demon at her side, wearing a handmade shawl so lovingly stitched with various,
terrifying occult symbols.
He isn’t the only one
who sees a problem with this—the neighbor’s dog, a small, bug-eyed thing, yaps
indignantly at them from the front lawn as it bounces around the dewy grass at
its owner’s feet, soon erupting in warning yowls and howls, before falling
silent mid-yip when Todd locks eyes with it. The neighbor—Maurice, if he
remembers Granny Ethel’s gossip correctly—stands frozen, watering can dangling
limp from his hand as he overwaters the begonias at his feet, mouth hanging
open in undignified disbelief.
“Good morning,
Maurice!” Granny Ethel calls with unmitigated cheer, and a hint of pride. “Nice
morning, isn’t it? Oh! Have you met my wonderful grandson Todd? He finally came
to visit! We’re going shopping now. Will you watch my house?”
Maurice simply stares,
dumb with shock.
Halfway down the block,
another neighbor’s car brakes with a squeal before they make it out of the
driveway and they stick their head out of the window to gape.
Shutters crack open.
Curtains are shoved aside.
Before Todd knows it,
they are the cul-de-sac’s center of attention.
Granny Ethel doesn’t
pay it any mind and continues obliviously on, waving to each face in turn as
those faces pale, yet hers remains rosy.
“My, such a busy day
today. I haven’t seen everyone out like this since the Fourth of July block
party. Oh, if you’re still here during summer, Todd, we should definitely take
part. Maybe we should start knitting an American flag for the occasion. What do
you think?”
He can only nod.
They make it to the
grocery store without incident—aside from the broken fire hydrant caused by a
distracted driver and the one, single person who ran away screaming, and the
handful that crossed themselves, and
the one person bold enough to snap a picture with their phone before Todd
grabbed it from their hands and threw it while Granny Ethel wasn’t looking, too
distracted with how well the city’s roadside flowers were blooming—and Todd,
ever the gentledemon, takes a small shopping cart from its line and trails
behind Granny Ethel as she consults the list taken from her purse.
As expected, those
within the store stop and stare. Even the calming elevator music jolts to a
pause.
A young man in an
employee vest, who looks high, shoots Todd the demon-horn hand sign and smiles
before swaggering away to the frozen food aisle, and the manager meekly
approaches them, skirting around a fresh fruit display.
“Ma’am, is there—is
there something I can—do you need help?” he asks, sweating from his receding hairline
to his neck as he tugs at his collar and straightens his frumpy tie.
“Oh! I’m so glad you
asked. I didn’t see any sales circulars by the door—what kind of specials are
on right now? Particularly on things like pizzas and cereals and whatever else
young men like to eat.” Granny Ethel leans in close to the man, close enough to
loudly whisper, “See, my grandson here is a quiet, shy boy despite his
appearance, and I don’t think he’d ask me himself, but I bet he’d love to get
some junk food to snack on between meals.”
The manager’s eyes
widen, blood-shot, as he looks to Todd, who only smiles—which comes off as
terrifying, he’s certain, with all the sharp teeth and red eyes involved.
“S-SURE! Junk food.
Right. Um—uh, w-well, I think there’s a BOGO—buy one get one free—deal on the
frozen pizzas. Uh…most cereals are marked down right now…th-there’s a sale on
potato chips…hot dogs…” His voice trails off, too burdened with trembles and
fear as he continues to hold Todd’s gaze. “And—you know, I’m sure some other employee
can help you, ma’am. I’m not one anymore as of this moment. I QUIT.” That said, he yanks the flimsy
plastic nametag from his shirt and runs for the door, followed by half of the
shoppers who abandon their carts and drop their baskets, scattering groceries
everywhere.
Granny Ethel watches
him go, then sighs. “He must have been overworked and stressed. I almost walked
out on a job a long time ago for the same reasons, but I needed it. You be
careful of corporate America, Todd.”
He takes her words to
heart, and he fully agrees.
Shoppers that remain in
the grocery mart avoid them at all costs as they meander through the frozen
food section, the bread aisle, the junk food corner—and Granny Ethel pays them
no mind, filling the cart to the brim with refills of groceries she needs back
at home and treats she thinks Todd needs more of in his life. He supposes he
does, if she says he does. Far be it from him to contradict her adolescent-savvy
wisdom.
Even so, the single
shopping cart is far too small for all of the spoils—halfway through the
shopping list, he finds them in need of another. It isn’t an issue. Many are
left scattered, abandoned, around almost every corner. By the end of the list,
both carts are full to the brim, and Granny Ethel is simply beaming.
The checkout lines are
deserted—they have their pick. Although only one station is manned by a clerk,
and it greatly narrows their choice.
As Todd wheels the two
shopping carts to the register, he recognizes the young employee from before,
who once again shoots him the demon-horn hand symbol.
“Love your poncho,
dude,” Sam (as his nametag reads) comments with a bit of a tired drawl, and
there are dark shadows under his eyes as expected from an overworked youth on
minimum wage, but he is otherwise energetic, quickly scanning each of the items
set on the conveyor belt, and smiling at demon and old woman in turn. “Did the
little lady here knit that for you?”
“Crocheted!” Granny
Ethel corrects with a grin, preening like a proud parakeet. “It does suit him,
doesn’t it? Of course, I would never make something that didn’t suit my dear
grandson. He must always be
well-dressed.”
“You seem like a really
supportive gramma. That’s cool. When I was in my super hardcore death metal
phase, mine just dragged me to church every Sunday.” A digital beep accompanies nearly every word as he
skillfully rings up each grocery down the line.
“Oh, I would never do
that. Mainly because I no longer belong to a church. And also because Todd
seems so averse to discussing Bible passages, so I never force him.”
At this, Todd gives a
wry smile. He places the final handful of groceries onto the conveyor belt and
sidles around Granny to the other side of the checkout, bagging the groceries
that have already been scanned. It seems the official bag boy has fled in
fright.
“I can imagine. Never
one for religion, myself. Oh, and you’re eligible for the senior citizen’s
discount, so let me just…” Sam pauses a moment to key in a code on the register
and it dings. “Aaand, there. Your total comes out to $204.56. Stocking up for
the winter already? It’s only March.”
“Oh, dear, no. Half of
this is for the food drive!” Granny Ethel chuckles good-naturedly as she leans
her cane against the counter and digs through her small pocketbook and produces
a checkbook, then dives back in to search for her favorite pen.
Sam turns to Todd while
awaiting payment. “By the way, dude, that costume is killer. I’ve never seen anything so realistic, with the added bonus
that you scared the boss away! Totally made my day. My week, even.”
Todd gives a nod, happy
to be of service, even if it isn’t a costume. He can’t exactly say it aloud. Perhaps
one day he’ll learn how to speak English coherently, but for now nonverbal cues
work just fine.
Finally, Granny Ethel
finds her pink, plastic jewel-encrusted ballpoint pen and makes out a check to
DeVille-Mart, even going so far as to take one of the heavier paper bags for
herself, never one to make Todd carry all of the groceries himself. “You have a
wonderful day, young man. Thank you.”
“Y’all have a great
day, too, Ma’am.” Sam offers a toothy smile, and it seems sincere enough as he sees
them off with a lazy wave “Hope to be seeing you shop here again.”
Todd isn’t so sure they’ll
ever return once upper management hears about this visit, but it’s nice to know
they are accepted by at least one individual.
“Now, Todd, let’s get
to the food bank. We have such a long day ahead of us. But there’s a reward at
the end of it—I bought ingredients specifically for chocolate turtle brownies!”
If the visit to the
food bank is in any way similar to this excursion—and it will be, he decides,
as yet another gawking driver’s car slow-collides with the corner vending
machine when they pass through the automatic doors—they have a long day ahead
of them, indeed.
the concept of how sir arthur conan doyle was as a person always sends me into fits. imagine making the most famous literary character of all time but you hate the character so much you try to kill him off. but everyone is so horny for this asshole detective they make you bring him back. even your own mother gets mad when he’s dead because she likes him. raising your prices to ridiculous rates to avoid writing holmes stories backfired and now you’re rich. it’s absolutely a pain because it’s keeping you from your true passion which is spiritualism despite how one of your good friends harry houdini keeps telling you it’s bullshit. you consider your best novels to be historical ones but they’re well over shadowed by the nemesis of your own creation sherlock fucking holmes. some fake photographs from some kids convinced you faeries were real and you wrote a whole book about it. you started writing stories in medical school. and yes, also you are a doctor. after you’re dead, they erect a statue of sherlock holmes across the street from your birthplace, causing you to probably roll over one hundred eighty degrees in your grave and scream into your casket pillow.
“That’s the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.”
adam&steve - Elijah Daniel (Icon, mayor of Hell (Michigan) where he banned straight marriage, now bought that city and renamed it to Gay Hell, released the Bible but gayer etc) & his fiancé Sam F aka Dr Woke
Alex G - bi Christian woman who deals with growing up in a homophobic, Christian environment in her music
dodie - she’s bi and cute and makes great music and most of you probably already know her but still
PVRIS - great band, their lead singer Lynn Gunn likes girls but also said that they (?) don’t necessarily identify as a girl (as far as I know, correct me if I’m wrong)
There will come a day when you wake up beside someone you love, your chest bare and your surgery scars almost completely faded into the contours of your skin. Your love will tell you good morning, and the sound of your name will feel as easy as breathing. It’s been so long since anyone has called you anything else that you almost forget that you used to have another name, used to be referred to by different pronouns. You will feel safe and happy and comfortable in your body and in your life. Your ribs will have forgotten the ache of binding. You will have forgotten the discomfort of wanting to cover yourself with a t-shirt whilst you slept and the moment of indecision before you enter a public bathroom. It will all be a distant memory, speckled and faded by time like a photograph bleached by sunlight. Happiness, gender euphoria, contentment, will be your new norm. You will look in the mirror and feel at peace with your reflection.
All of that is in your future, so stick around for it. It’s worth it.
Depression and Anxiety is like radiation. There’s always a little bit of it in the background but not enough to kill you. Then once in a while you get a free trip to Chernobyl.
